


All Through My Blood

by Vagrant_Blvrd



Series: Kings of Nowhere [40]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe- GTA V, Canon-Typical Violence, Fake AH Crew, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 17:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16412459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrant_Blvrd/pseuds/Vagrant_Blvrd
Summary: The job Geoff sends them on involves a gang that's been poking around the Fake AH Crew's territory. Nibbling at their defenses and Geoff can't afford to let it go on if he wants the heavy hitters in Los Santos to take the Fakes seriously.





	All Through My Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for Anon who asked for Myan with this prompt: 96: “ Well this is just great. ”

The job Geoff sends them on involves a gang that's been poking around the Fake AH Crew's territory. Nibbling at their defenses and Geoff can't afford to let it go on if he wants the heavy hitters in Los Santos to take the Fakes seriously. 

So he sends Ryan and Michael to the abandoned factory the gang's set up their operations in. Scenic, almost, the way it backs up against a scraggly forest struggling to reach the mountains in the distance and a little stream cutting through the whole thing.

Out of the way place, and it makes sense why they’re trying to carve out space for themselves in the city, but they’re going about it in all the wrong ways. Made the kind of misstep that has Geoff sending the two of them, which is a message all its own.

No wonder things go south on them so fast, paranoia being what it is, and they end up playing a twisted version of hide and seek. (The kind you play with guns and knives and whatever you have at hand.)

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” Michael hisses, snarl in his voice coming through loud and clear through the comm in Ryan's ear.

They were forced to separate early on thanks to the gang members being craftier than expected. Clever bastards who know the area better than them and have been using it to their advantage.

Some part of Ryan is reluctantly amused by the whole situation because this was supposed to be an easy job, or so Geoff had claimed. 

Told them all they had to do was come out here and have a chat – an actual chat – because they’d just come off a little scuffle with a rival crew. Didn’t need to get into shit with another one so soon afterward when there had been minor injuries on their side and they were down a few until those healed up.

Too bad these guy didn’t get the memo, assumed Ryan and Michael were here for one reason only.

Michael had barely finished talking before bullets were flying and Ryan was hauling an annoyed Michael to cover.

That had been almost half an hour ago and now they're down to two rival gang members hunting them down. Ryan's managed to work his way back towards Michael, but there's still a lot of open terrain between them. 

“Michael,” Ryan says, tracking a thug making his way towards Michael, barely ore than a dark outline in the gloom. “You've got incoming.”

Michael laughs, nothing amused in it. 

“Well this is just great,” he says, voice calm.

Too calm, really. 

Ryan closes his eyes, because he’s got trouble of his own nearby, can hear someone creeping through the undergrowth.

Michael laughs again, tired and a little resigned to this shitshow of a day.

“Hey. Think I could take him out by throwing my gun at him?”

Ryan's eyes open, gaze sliding left where a soft footstep sounds. 

“I don't know,” Ryan answers, moving slow, careful as he slides deeper into the shadows. “You going to try it?”

Michael makes this little noise like he's considering it, and sure. He'd certainly surprise thee guy. Buy himself a moment or two before the surprise wore off and the guy reacted. Remembered he had a gun, and that Michael had just _thrown his_. 

“Eh,” Michael says, and that sounds like a smile. Mean and sharp and nothing good for anyone on the receiving end if Ryan's any judge. “Why not?”

Ryan smirks, pulling one of his knives as his guy walks past. A beat, two, and Ryan falls in behind him.

He gets a lot of grief about his love for knives, but they’re a versatile tool for someone in their line of work. Amazingly handy in a situation like this where stealth is a vital component in their continued survival.

The gang member goes down easy, knife between his ribs and Ryan’s hand over his mouth to muffle any noises he makes. It’s over in moments, Ryan carefully lowering the body to the ground.

“Vagabond?”

“On my way,” Ryan says, moving fast and quiet. “The one who was following me had a bit of an... accident.”

There’s a long silence on Michael’s end, and then a quiet snort. 

“Christ, way to make this creepier, you fuck.”

Ryan blinks.

“I mean, I get it,” Michael continues, so very casual and nonchalant. “The whole tall, dark, and creepy thing you have going on, of course you're going to say shit like that.”

It had been an issue, Ryan knows, when Geoff brought him on. The reputation he’d earned for himself preceding him along with all the ridiculous rumors that had cropped up alongside it.

Michael walking up to him, eyes narrowing as he looked Ryan over while everyone watched the two of them. Waited to see what would happen like it was the best damn show they’d ever seen, and the only thing missing had been the popcorn.

These days it’s more of a joke between them. Michael rolling his eyes at Ryan and his theatrics, crooked smile on his face.

“Look,” Ryan says, “in my defense - “

“Hold on a moment. Got a thing to do first,” Michael interrupts, and then gives Ryan a front-row view as to why so many junkyard dog comparisons are made when it comes to him.

A shadowy figure rearing up out of cover roaring as he swings a rotting two-by-four at the head of the guy stalking him. Hits the unfortunate bastard so hard the two-by-four breaks apart in his hands raining debris in a wide arc.

Ryan pulls up short and watches as Michael stares down at the man at his feet. Out cold or dead, it’s hard to tell, and Michael doesn’t seem to be in the mood to take chances. 

Ryan watches as he takes the guy’s gun off him and shoots him, nice and clean and nothing personal.

And then he looks up at Ryan, eyebrow raised. 

“Sorry, you were saying?”

Ryan shakes his head and picks his way over, feeling tired and sore and really amazingly done with this place.

“Nothing important.”

Ryan looks around. They’re a fair ways away from the gang’s base. He’s reasonably sure the gang’s base is somewhere off to their left. 

Probably.

“You’re lost, aren’t you.”

“Shut up,” Ryan says, but there’s no heat to it.

Michael's eyeing Ryan, that crooked smile on his face again because he thinks it’s hilarious that the big, bad, Vagabond has a shitty sense of direction. 

“This way, genius,” Michael says, and points a little to the left of where Ryan thought they needed to go.

“I knew that,” Ryan says, because he wasn’t that far off. Would have gotten there in the end.

Michael rolls his eyes, smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, shoulder bumping against Ryan’s as he moves past him to take the lead. “Keep telling yourself that and maybe you’ll believe it.”

Ryan sighs, lips pulling up into a rueful smile as Michael laughs, clearly having heard him.

Not quite what he was expecting when he accepted Geoff’s offer to join the crew, but he could have done a hell of a lot worse for himself.


End file.
